


Holiday Hankerings

by UnseenLibrarian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Babies, Christmas, Christmas Shopping, Cravings, F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, Gen, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pregnancy, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 08:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnseenLibrarian/pseuds/UnseenLibrarian
Summary: All Draco wants for Christmas is to find a snack for his extremely pregnant wife, Hermione. It shouldn't be this difficult.





	Holiday Hankerings

**Author's Note:**

> I am happy to be taking part in the D/Hr Advent fest this year! Thank you so much. This year my prompt was: _chocolate orange_. 
> 
> Many, many thanks to my betas, captainraychill and dormiensa. You two are lovely people!
> 
> Disclaimer: The basic story idea belongs to me but the rest - the characters and the wonderful wizarding world - belong to J. K. Rowling.

 

**CHRISTMAS EVE EVE**

It was Christmas Eve eve. Draco Malfoy was in the Malfoy Manor kitchen, discussing the next few days' menu with the house-elves. They were arguing over the Christmas Day dinner. Tisha wanted to roast a turkey, but Gomez thought it was time for them to serve roast beef as the holiday meal. Lurch, the biggest and quietest of the house-elves, just shrugged when asked his opinion. His bushy eyebrows made it hard to read his expression. All of them were wearing red and green tea towels. Tisha was writing industriously on a clipboard.

Draco was about to interject his thoughts when

_TING A LING!_

 A large silver jingle bell rudely appeared out of nowhere and rang right in his ear. He jumped with a yelp and then scowled as the bell _POPPED_ out of existence.

 "I'm coming, my love," he said through gritted teeth.

 "Shall Tisha go see what Mistress wants, Master?" asked Tisha.

 "Merlin, no, but thank you, Tisha. She's summoned me, she'd better _get_ me. Hermione would tear me a new one if she thought I'd sent a house-elf to attend to her instead of going myself."

 "Mistress would tear Master a new what?" asked Gomez, looking puzzled.

 "Never mind," Draco said darkly. He took the clipboard and quill from Tisha. "Please serve roast turkey _and_ roast beef," he said, writing it down with a flourish. He handed the clipboard back to her and smiled. "It's a special Christmas, after all."

 The house-elves nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and as Draco left the room, he heard them begin to debate desserts and puddings.

 He strode down one festively-decorated hall, turned left past a house-elf-sized Christmas tree decorated with tiny stockings, walked the length of another Yuletide hallway, and then entered the tinsel-trimmed foyer, where he proceeded to mount the stairs. He silently cursed the manor's anti-Apparition wards. It took so bloody long to get anywhere in this house! But, he reflected that at least his legs and butt were getting a good workout. He paused to check out said legs and derriere in the mirror at the top of the stairs. His mad, darling wife was right. He made Muggle jeans look _fine_.

 As he admired himself, the silver bell appeared again. _TING A LING!_ _TING A LING!_ it rang, more insistently this time. Draco sighed and walked quickly down the hall towards the master bedroom. The bell didn't disappear but instead continued to _TING A LING!_ at him every other second. He was practically sprinting by the time he burst through the bedroom door.

 "Call it off! I'm here!" he shouted, leaning against the doorjamb and breathing heavily. With a _POP_ , the bell vanished.

 Draco caught his breath before sauntering over to his wife. Hermione, extremely pregnant, was sitting up in bed, trying to stifle a giggle.

 "That Bell Spell of yours interrupted an important conversation I was having with our loving, dutiful house-elves," he complained.

 "Oh, dear, I'm sorry. Is it so terrible that I wanted to see my adoring husband?" She looked him over. "You seem a bit winded, love." She looked again. "Nice jeans."

 He smirked. He kissed her, then stepped back and crossed his arms.

 "So, what's wrong, sweetness? Do you need to pee?"

 "Always, these days. A little assistance, please?"

 She held out her hand. He took it in his and carefully helped her out of the bed. As she steadied herself, he gazed at her with love and awe. Her breasts were full and ripe beneath the long, red and green plaid flannel nightgown she wore. (So sexy!) The fabric stretched across her burgeoning belly. Her hair was wild and luxuriant. Her skin glowed. He still had a hard time believing that just three years before, brave, brilliant Hermione Granger, the love of his life, had married him. Now here she was, nine months pregnant with their first--and second--children! The first set of twins ever to be born in the Malfoy family was due any day now. She was wonderful, she was beautiful, and she was--

 "Stop wool-gathering and help me to the loo, Draco, or I'm going to tinkle all over your heirloom Abyssinian rug."

 She was so very matter-of-fact, he noted, as he guided her to the en-suite toilet.

 ***

 "This bedrest is for the birds," she said with a delicate grunt as she settled herself back under the covers. She looked down at herself with a frown. "I feel helpless, like a beached whale. Christmas is practically here, and I haven't been able to do anything to prepare."

 Draco climbed in beside her, displacing a pile of books and magazines, and put his arm around her shoulders. He pointed at the giant mound of knitting beside the bed. "Sweetness, you've made gifts for everyone you've ever known in your life. The house is decorated for Christmas, and the house-elves have a wonderful menu planned. My parents will be arriving from France tomorrow, and the guest wing is ready for them. All you have to do right now is prepare for the long-awaited arrival of these two little Malfoys," he said, gently sliding his free hand over her belly. It heaved and rippled in response, rather like the earth's crust during an earthquake. Hermione smiled wearily and put her hand on her belly, too. She intertwined her fingers with his, and they sat in silence, feeling their babies kick.

 "They're coming soon," she said.

 "I know," he replied.

 "I'm nervous," she admitted.

 "Me too," he agreed.

 "I'm scared," she whispered.

 "I am too," he confided. He kissed her cheek. "Here. Let me distract you." He tried to kiss her lips.

 She pulled away and covered his mouth with her hand.

 "I'm hungry," she announced.

 Draco sighed through his nose. She removed her hand and smiled brightly at him.

 "All right. What is it this time?" he asked. "Maple syrup and sour pickles?"

 "Ew, no. That's so three months ago."

 "Marmite and asparagus?"

 "That used to taste good, but no."

 He snapped his fingers. "Sugar-coated fruit-flavored cereal!"

 "Yuck. Would you be serious, please?"

 "I _am_ serious. I will get you whatever weird food you are craving, sweetness. You have only to ask."

 She sat up a bit straighter. "I want a chocolate orange," she said.

 "Did you say _'chocolate orange'_?"

 Was that all? Were his ears deceiving him?  No fried badger pizzles dipped in lemon juice? No bacon-wrapped veggie burgers? He was almost disappointed. He'd become fascinated by the gustatory desires his wife had developed over her pregnancy. This was by far the least exciting concoction yet. Ah well. He'd never seen a chocolate orange, but it couldn't be too difficult to find.

 "Yes. Just a simple chocolate orange," she repeated. "It's a Muggle treat. We always had them at Christmas when I was little. Mum and Dad..." She stopped and picked at the bedspread, her lower lip trembling at the bittersweet memory. It was ten years post-War, but her parents still thought they were Wendell and Monica Wilkins from Australia. Sadly, she had learned that she'd done too good a job protecting them; it would endanger her parents' sanity if she were to attempt to restore their pre-War memories. She'd tracked them down and had convinced them she was a long-lost cousin, but that was as close a relationship as she'd ever be able to have with them. Every memory she had of them was precious.

 "Anyway," she said with a watery sniff. "I'd really like one." She gazed pleadingly at her husband.

 Draco handed her a tissue and hugged her and his unborn children tightly. "Say no more, my love. I shall go and find you one of these chocolate oranges." He kissed her before leaving, this time on the lips, and donned his cloak with a flourish as he headed out on his quest.

 ***

 "Where the _bloody_ hell am I going to find a chocolate orange?" Draco grumbled to himself as he left yet another Diagon Alley sweets shop empty-handed. He'd been striking out all afternoon, and his mood had grown increasingly sour. He hated crowds, and the Alley was mobbed with loud, last-minute Christmas shoppers. He'd cast a Personal Space Bubble Charm when he'd arrived, which helped prevent jostling, but it did nothing for the noise. In addition to the frenzied hubbub, there were carolers belting out off-key Christmas songs on every corner. He'd quickly developed a headache.

 To top it all off, Hermione's damned jingle bell had made a reappearance, _TING A LING_ ing in his ear every few minutes. He loved his clever wife, but he hated that bell. Merlin's beard, there were so many other ways to get his attention! Protean-charmed Galleons, Owls, _Morsmordre…_

 He had one last place to try. He really, _really_ didn't want to venture into Muggle London two days before Christmas all on his own. If he had to, he would, but he sincerely hoped this final shop would be his saviour.

 _DING A LONG DONG!_ rang the bell over the entrance to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

 _TING A LING!_ replied Hermione's jingle bell.

 "Salazar's sac," Draco muttered.

 He stepped inside the shop with more than a little trepidation. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was jam-packed with last-minute shoppers. Toys and other merchandise littered the aisles. Carols were playing from the shop's many loudspeakers, interrupted periodically by a booming voice announcing how many shopping hours were left before Christmas. Barely-contained panic and body odor were abundant.

 Draco re-cast his Personal Space Bubble Charm. It was times like this, he mused, that he almost missed being a social pariah. True, people had hated and feared him, but at least he'd never had to force his way through a crowd. Marrying Hermione had done wonders for his social status but had cramped his style in other ways. Like now.

 He dodged and weaved his way down the center aisle of the shop, headed for the till where he'd caught sight of one of the Weasley twins waiting on customers. He was almost there when he realized the queue for the till was longer than Nagini had been. He shuddered.

 He was considering jumping the queue when the bell next to his head rang again. _TING A LING!_  He scowled and reluctantly took his place at the end of the line.

 The queue inched forward ever so slowly. The wizard in front of him held a young child, no more than three, in his arms. The child stared unblinkingly over its father's shoulder at Draco. Draco stared back. The kid was unmoved. Draco upped the ante by flaring his nostrils haughtily. The child cocked its head in interest, then stuck a sticky finger up one of its own nostrils, digging for gold. Draco gagged and looked away. He made a mental note to Spellotape his own children's noses shut if they ever tried that trick around him.

 Finally, the child's father completed his transaction and took the mining minor away. Draco stepped up to the counter.

"Which one are you?" he demanded.

 _TING A LING!_ The ever-present Hermione bell admonished him.

 "Guess," said the anonymous ginger. He wore no nametag and nondescript red, white, and green robes.

 Draco squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't have time for this," he murmured. He opened his eyes and saw that the man in front of him had one normal ear and one elephant ear.

 "You're George," he said.

 "Malfoy, your powers of observation astound me," said George. He leaned on the counter and flapped his elephant ear back and forth. "No time for small talk. The queue is growing by leaps and bounds. Isn't Yuletide commerce wonderful? What can I do for you, Malfoy?"

 Draco set both hands on the counter, trying to hide his desperation, and asked, "Do you jokers have something the Muggles call a chocolate orange, by any chance?"

 "Maybe," said George.

 Draco blinked. "Really?"

 George tapped a finger against the side of his nose, then yelled across the shop, "Fre-ed, do we have any of those Muggle-made chocolate oranges left?"

 "Maybe," came the distant reply. "Who's asking?"

 "Draco Malfoy!" shouted George.

 "That git?"

 "Yeah!"

 "Hey!" protested Draco. _TING A LING!_ added the jingle bell.

 Fred suddenly appeared next to George. He, too, was wearing red, white, and green robes and sported two elephant ears. He flapped them at Draco.

 "So you want a chocolate orange, eh?"

 Draco had had enough. He pulled his coin purse out of his robe pocket and shook it meaningfully. "Yes, I do."

 "Well, it's your lucky Christmas Eve eve!  We happen to have a single Muggle chocolate orange left," said Fred as he pulled something from his pocket and placed it on the counter. It was a round, brown object, just about the size of an orange. Draco looked closer. Whatever it was, it was covered in milk chocolate.

 "Is that _really_ a chocolate orange?"

 "It is indeed," said Fred, nudging George with his elbow. George added, "It's yours for one Galleon, fourteen Sickles, and two Knuts."

 "Sold!" Draco placed two Galleons on the counter. "You two are lifesavers. Keep the change."

 Fred quickly stuffed the chocolate-covered blob into a velvet bag and handed it to Draco while George swept the coins into the register. Draco took the bag and saluted the twins with a genuine smile.

 "Surprisingly, it was a pleasure doing business with you two," he said. "Hermione will be thrilled."

_TING A LING!_

 "Maybe we'll even name our children after you," he said with the exhausted, exhilarated laugh of a person who'd finally found the perfect gift. He lifted a hand in a wave before Disapparating on the spot.

 Fred and George simply stared at the empty space where Draco had been.

 "The orange was meant for _Hermione?_ " said Fred, faintly.

 "It seems so," George replied.

 "Merlin's balls."

 Just then, Arthur Weasley bustled in from the back room of the shop. He was holding a blue cardboard box aloft. Along the sides it read, "Terry's Chocolate Oranges" in orange letters.

 "I was re-stocking when I heard the call for Muggle chocolate oranges," he said, panting slightly. "I've found a whole case of them!" He looked around. "Where's Draco?"

 "Ummm….." said Fred.

 "Oh, boys. You didn't," sighed Arthur. He ripped open the box and grabbed two smaller, open-sided boxes from inside. They were labeled "Terry's Chocolate Orange" and an orange foil-wrapped ball could be plainly seen inside each one.

 "We thought it was for _him,_  honest," complained George.

 Arthur just shook his head. "Boys. It's Christmas, for Merlin's sake." Turning on the spot, he Disapparated.

 A moment later, he reappeared. He wagged a finger at Fred and George.

 "Father Christmas is very, _very_ disappointed in you," he said, and then Disapparated again.

 ***

 Arthur Apparated outside the main gates of Malfoy Manor. After a brief pause, they opened to admit him. He rushed up the drive to the door.

 The enchanted doorbell chimed _I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas_ when he pushed the button. He chuckled. That had to be Hermione's touch.

 Soon, the door opened. A rather tall house-elf stood in the doorway.

 "You rang?" he intoned in a surprisingly deep voice.

 "Yes, er, Lurch, isn't it?" Arthur said, dredging up memories of his past raids on the manor. "I've come to speak to Draco. Is he home?"

 Wordlessly, Lurch turned around and ushered Arthur into the festive foyer. He closed the door and Disapparated.

 Arthur waited, hoping he'd made it in time. He didn't know exactly what his sons had given to Draco, but he knew it wouldn't have been kind.

 Long minutes later, a tall, lean figure came down the stairs. Arthur squinted, not recognizing the man at first.

 "Draco?"

 It was, indeed, a woebegone Draco Malfoy. He stopped in front of Arthur, dripping. He was covered in orange pulp and what looked like melted chocolate (Arthur fervently hoped that's all it was). His formerly crisp white Oxford shirt was badly stained, as were his jeans. His ivory-white hair, normally pristinely coiffed, was hanging limply, and its color was now a deep, vibrant ginger. Across his forehead were written the words "HERMIONE'S HORNY HOUSE-ELF".

 From a long way off, Arthur could hear the sounds of a woman crying.

 Wordlessly, he held up one of the Terry's Chocolate Orange boxes. Draco took it from him and opened it. He took out the foil ball and Vanished the box. He looked at the ball, and then, pulling his hand back, he _SMASHED_ it against the marble statue standing near the door. He unwrapped the foil and there, lying in a neat circle, were twenty or so half-moons of milk chocolate molded to look like orange slices. He picked one up, inspected it carefully, and then stuck it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully. Some orange peel slid down his cheek and plopped on the floor as he did so. He swallowed the chocolate.

 "So _that's_ a Muggle chocolate orange," he said, conversationally. The far-off crying sounds continued.

 "Yes," said Arthur.

 "Quite a lot different from the one that was sold to me."

 "Yes," said Arthur, again. "It is." He took out his wand. "Would you like me to clean you up a bit?"

 Draco nodded.

 Arthur's _"Scourgify!"_ removed all of the pulp and chocolate, but Draco's hair remained ginger, and the words were still printed on his forehead.

 "Well, then. At least now you're clean. I'll find out from the boys how to fix the rest of it," he promised. He handed over the second chocolate orange box. "Why don't you go give this to Hermione, hmm? Cheer her up a bit?"

 "Thank you, I will," said Draco. "But she doesn't need cheering up."

 "Isn't that crying I hear?" asked Arthur.

 Draco shook his head. "Nope. She's laughing her pregnant butt off. She burst into hysterical laughter after the Orange Incident. I think she wet the bed. Do thank your sons for me."

 He turned to go but stopped. "Tell those cretins I will _not_ be naming my twins, or any other children of mine, after them."

_TING A LING! TING A LING! TING A LING! TING A LING!_

 Hermione's jingle bell _POPPED_ into existence, ringing frantically, just before the woman herself appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching at her enormous belly.

 "Draco," she gasped. "It's time! I think all that laughing set things in motion. I'm sorry, my water broke all over your Abyssinian rug."

 Draco ran and slid to a stop at the bottom of the staircase.

 "Don't move, sweetness!  I'll come get you!"

 He started to bound up the steps like a reindeer, and he might have reached Hermione unscathed were it not for the remaining puddles of orange pulp and chocolate goo that littered the stairs. The nervous new-dad-to-be slipped, tripped, and almost fell. Thank goodness for honed Quidditch reflexes!

 He scrambled onto the stair next to Hermione. She grabbed his hand, and with his other arm wrapped around her waist, the two of them carefully came down the stairs. Arthur waited at the bottom wearing a broad, comforting smile. He helped Draco guide her to the fireplace.

 Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, his other arm still supporting Hermione, Draco turned to the older man.

 "Arthur, please send an owl to my parents in France and let them know these babies are on their way! We're going to St. Mungo's."

 He threw the powder into the fire, stepped in with Hermione, and they were whisked away.

 Arthur stood smiling, thinking about his own children, until he felt a tug on his sleeve. Looking down, he saw Lurch standing there, offering him a quill and parchment. Draco's eagle owl was perched on the house-elf's head.

 "Your note?" queried Lurch.

 ***

**CHRISTMAS DAY**

 The young Malfoys gazed lovingly at the wee babies cuddled together in the large bassinet beside their bed. The delivery had gone well. Frederica Lyra had been born first, followed by Georgina Vega nine minutes later. And then, little Rigel Atticus, their Christmas miracle third baby, had arrived. Draco and Hermione were beyond thrilled. They were the proud parents of the first Malfoy triplets in history: identical twin girls and a surprise Male Malfoy Heir(™).

 Hermione had insisted on naming the girls after Fred and George Weasley. After all, she'd argued, it was their prank that had caused her to go into labor, which let she and Draco finally meet their beautiful children. Draco had grudgingly agreed. He'd kissed his wife, and then proceeded to send a gift basket full of exploding citrus fruit and never-ceasing, always-jingling jingle bells to the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes shop as a thank you.

 

_TING A LING!_

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks go out to _The Addams Family_ TV show for the loan of Tisha (Morticia), Gomez, and Lurch, in house-elf form.
> 
>  
> 
> My British husband will back me up on this: Terry's Chocolate Oranges are meant to be whacked against something hard in order to loosen the orange-flavored chocolate slices and then unwrapped and enjoyed. Needless to say, whacking Fred's chocolate orange was a disaster waiting to happen. :-)
> 
> Terry's Chocolate Oranges at Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry%27s_Chocolate_Orange


End file.
